


love worth its weight

by besidemethewholedamntime



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, a before and after, then post breaking the time loop, time-loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-07 13:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14672421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besidemethewholedamntime/pseuds/besidemethewholedamntime
Summary: "Jemma think of the stories, of the fairy-tales they will never read to their daughter, of Snow Whites and Cinderellas and princesses who got their happy endings even when it felt like their own world was ending."Jemma reflects on motherhood.(I know it might seem like angst, but I promise it has a happy ending)





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sure where this came from. The beginning of it was already written and something I was going to use for another fic but I've basically disassembled that one and made it into two new ones (the other one is May's character study). 
> 
> It's going to be two short parts. This is the first, and the next one should hopefully be up tomorrow depending on whether or not I can edit it in time (an explanation: I'm meeting with a friend in Glasgow tomorrow and I haven't seen her since before we both went to uni and I am so excited I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight!).
> 
> No matter what it might seem in this first one, I promise promise the second part has a happy ending. 
> 
> This has details in it from my fic 'and oh this too shall pass' which you absolutely don't have to have read at all, because they're minor details but if you have read that one and then read this one then you might recognise some things. 
> 
> Title is from 'Georgia' by Vance Joy. 
> 
> I'm so sorry this has been a long note - I'm rambling. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

**i. the end**

 

Their daughter is born and it _hurts._

It hurts more than anything ever has in her life. Not physically, not the expected kind of pain usually associated with giving birth, but something indefinably _more._

It hurts so much that in those precious first few minutes where her daughter is laid on her chest and their skin touches and the life that she has nurtured inside her for all these months is suddenly looking up at her with the entire universe held in the blue of her eyes, Jemma can almost not bear to look. She relinquishes her to Fitz after a few minutes, sure that if she waited any longer she wouldn’t be able to let go at all.

It hurts because the loop isn’t broken and she’s seen the future, knows what’s in store for this piece of her soul that’s only spent a handful of minutes in an already unforgiving world. She’s risked everything, done things she never would have deemed herself capable before all of this, and she would have done it all over again if it ensured that the future she had lived was gone and a better one was now able to take its place.

Except it hasn’t, and in looking at her daughter all she can see is how she’s failed her already, before she even has a _name._

Right now, at this very moment, shards of broken earth are flying past the window and the stars are visible but they aren’t beautiful.

She tried not to listen to the stories, tried not to think about what would happen if they didn’t break the loop – didn’t even prepare for the possibility. Except now it’s come to pass and she’s floundering, treading water but she’s running out of energy, doesn’t think she has it in her to swim anymore.

They name her Sarah. It means Princess. Jemma think of the stories, of the fairy-tales they will never read to their daughter, of Snow Whites and Cinderellas and princesses who got their happy endings even when it felt like their own world was ending.

But at least they still had a planet to stand on. At least the earth didn’t crumble beneath their feet.

Sarah is not an easy baby. She is never sated. It doesn’t matter who gets up with her in the night – whether it is Jemma or Fitz it makes no difference. Sarah doesn’t care. She cries and screams as if it will solve all of her problems. She uses the only voice she has.

And, Jemma wonders, who are they to deny her this? It’s all so laughably simple. In a world where there isn’t really a world at all, and everybody is fighting to stay alive to fight some more, their daughter only cares about where her next meal is coming from, being changed, being held. She only cares about herself in that deliciously innocent way babies do and it’s nice to experience in this new age something so normal.

It’s nice to experience, it is, but it’s also exhausting and Jemma sometimes looks into the endless eyes of her daughter and feels the heavy shroud of guilt around her heart begin to suffocate her because all she can think is _I failed you and you don’t even know._

As already foretold, Sarah begins to worship the ground Fitz walks on. She toddles after him in constantly altered clothes, the current object of her fascination held tightly in an unforgiving toddler fist. He narrates what he’s doing, and so her first word is ‘wrench’ and the way Fitz beams at Jemma with a pride so unlike anything else ever seen before makes it worth any tiny, small nugget of jealousy buried deep within her stomach.

It’s so easy for him, or at least it appears to be. How does he look past it? How does he free himself from the guilt, disentangle himself from it long enough to beam at Sarah the way he does, twirl her around the way he does? Jemma knows it’s not so simple, hears him crying in the shower under the running water so Jemma won’t hear. He comes out with red-rimmed eyes and a hoarse voice and holds her tightly while he sleeps. But that’s with just the two of them. He never shows it in front of her.

It’s not to say that Jemma doesn’t forget when she’s with Sarah, because she does. She’ll help her daughter with her spelling, or her maths or science (because even with the end of the world, there’s no reason to neglect a proper education) and won’t even notice the guilt because it feels like how it’s _supposed_ to feel. That’s what parents do: they help their children with their schoolwork.  Jemma will be working and Sarah will appear and ask her the weird and wonderful things that children do and Jemma won’t even feel that twinge of failure because how can she have failed when her beautiful daughter is standing right in front of her and making science puns with that grin and gleam in her eyes which means she’s definitely her father’s daughter?

How can she have failed to have saved her when she’s _right here_?

It gets easier and harder all at the same time.

It gets easier because when you live with guilt for so long it becomes a part of you, and you know longer have to consciously remind yourself to carry this weight, no longer have to remind yourself why your heart is so heavy. By now it’s ingrained in somewhere deep within your bones. It’s a part of your very soul and the relief to just carry it, to not have to think about it, is immense.

But it gets harder because the end gets closer. Jemma knows. She’s seen the drawings, heard the prophecies, knows what Robin told Fitz, knows what it did to him… the giant countdown clock is ticking and soon it will reach zero but she breathes fine because it’s not for her daughter. It’s for her.

And this is the good and right way, isn’t it? This is how it’s supposed to be, after all, parents going before their children.

Jemma’s thought it over, a lot. Thought about Sarah the most. Thought about that if this is it, if this is really how she goes then it has to mean something and she makes Fitz promise it to her. It has to mean something, her death. It can’t be for nothing. It has to be for the good, for the future, for the hope that eventually, somehow, they’ll try again and get it right.

It has to be for their daughter. It has to be so they can save her.

And so she isn’t scared, at least not in the way she ever thought she would. For the time she’s had with Fitz, for the time she’s had with Sarah she is infinitely grateful for. Eventually it won’t be this way.

She just wishes that this time they could have saved the world, because she isn’t ready to go.


	2. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma reflects on motherhood post breaking the loop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I would just like to say a enormous THANK YOU to all of you who gave kudos and left comments. It means a great deal and you are all so lovely and kind so this is for you. 
> 
> I think I'm finally happy with this chapter. For some reason the first part was easier to write, but I'm hoping this is fitting. 
> 
> I'm sorry it wasn't up yesterday, but I had such a lovely day in Glasgow and my house is getting re-done so we all had to pitch in and I was just exhausted. Here it is now, however, and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> (Also, if you follow me on tumblr you'll see the thing I reblogged a few days ago about changing the colour of the writing background to a mint green. It was actually so helpful for me!)

**ii. the beginning**

Their daughter is born and she is _beautiful._

She comes into the world kicking and crying, already a force to be reckoned with. Fitz cries, as does Jemma, but not from sadness. No, from the sheer relief that they made it to be here. The relief that she is born in a hospital in Perth, Scotland and not some decrepit lighthouse with the remains of Earth flying past them. The relief that when she came into the world at eleven minutes past four the spring sun was shining and the Earth felt strong and sure and new.

The relief that, this time, they don’t know what’s going to happen.

They name her Sarah. Jemma thinks of princesses, of Mulan and Merida who had the chance to, and rightfully did, change their fates.

She wonders if it was like this before.

They know nothing of the past lives they’ve lived, would have known nothing about the daughter they’d loved and lost so many times had Deke not told them. Jemma can’t imagine it, doesn’t want to think about it. The guilt of it all must have been overwhelming.

 It’s an unspoken rule between her and Fitz, to never talk about those other versions of themselves, of their daughter. They don’t speak of what she might have been like, was she the same as their daughter now? Did she take her first steps at the same time? Did she speak her first word at the same time? Was she the same or did they lose something they didn’t even know they never had?

Except one day Jemma does say it, because she can’t hold it in anymore.

“I wonder what it must have been like,” she muses, and it’s almost an accident to say it out loud. “To bring a child into that world.”

She watches what her words do to Fitz, watches how they land on him. At first, he is confused, but then it’s only seconds before he understands and his eyes widen, his mouth hangs open and he’s thinking about it even though Jemma can tell he really doesn’t want to.

“Hard,” he manages to choke out. Tears shine in his eyes. “Imagine it, having this person who you love so much you’d do anything for, and yet you know exactly how it’s all going to play out for them.” His eyes cut away from her to Sarah, who’s playing on the floor. His next words are so, so quiet. “I guess I don’t need to imagine.”

Jemma thinks of everything Fitz has done for her and wonders how many lives they lived through. How many times did they lose each other, their daughter? Did they manage to survive it?

She thinks that, at that point, they would have given up. Let the loop replay again. Reset the game. Get another chance.

It’s hard to keep on fighting when you have nothing left to fight for anymore.

The thoughts of those other lives which kept her awake so much in the beginning fade away as time passes. Jemma doesn’t think about it as much, because there’s really no point. They did what they did, they saved the world, and what’s the point in thinking about all the lives they had to live to get there?

As Sarah gets older she begins to worship Fitz, something that Jemma suspected would always have remained the same. She toddles after him in outfits picked by her grandmothers, shoes gifted to her by the team, hats that Director Daisy found too adorable to not pick up while on missions to keep the world safe. She has a favourite stuffed toy, a plushed penicillin teddy gifted to Jemma once they left SHIELD, and she never goes anywhere without it. Her first word is ‘daddy’ and though she expects a tiny little bit of jealousy, it never comes, because children find those hard sounds easier to say and so it’s normal and normality is, for a long time, all that Jemma’s wanted.

Sarah is smart and beautiful and has the uncanny ability to make everyone who knows her fall in love with her. She loves to learn, memorises everything she can - even things way beyond her years. She loves to laugh, loves making people laugh and has a trademark grin that harbours more beauty than the stars. She gets grumpy when she’s ill, likes all of her toys and books to be in order and her favourite sandwich is the same as her father’s.

She is Sarah Fitzsimmons and she is _perfect._

And, Jemma thinks, surely, she was always destined to be this good, this great. That in whatever world she was in, whatever hardships she had to face, she was always a light in the dark. Always a hope. Always a joy. Surely, she was always this wonderful.

It makes her unexpectedly emotional sometimes, on days that those precious childhood milestones occur. Because this wouldn’t have happened in those other lives. Her daughter, then, wouldn’t have experienced those things, not while the stars were constantly visible and the only Earth she knew was the broken husk she could see out a window.

“Mummy! There you are. Daddy says he’s taking pictures now.”

Jemma turns around, broken out of her reverie by Sarah’s gleeful yelling. It’s her first day of school and she has her new uniform on and her hair done in two plaits which bounce up and down in time with her excited jumping about.

Jemma cannot help but smile and puts down her cup of tea on the side of the kitchen sink. “I’m just coming,” she tells Sarah, who nods with fervour, before running back through to Fitz, her new black patent school shoes making thudding noises on the floor.

_It’s all new._

Jemma glances back towards the kitchen window she had been looking out, and feels the weight lift from her. It’s all new. They’ve never lived this life before. Everything is fresh and new, a clean slate.

Her daughter is starting school today and right now Fitz is playing around with the camera and Sarah’s giggling because she finds his antics funny. Later they’ll all go out for lunch together, perhaps to the park to enjoy the late August sunshine. The Team will phone tonight and ask her all about it and Sarah will respond with enthusiasm the way she responds to all questions directed to her. Her grandparents will visit at the weekend and, maybe, if it’s still sunny, they’ll go to the beach. Tonight, she’ll come home and hug her parents the way she always has. She’ll sleep in the same bed she’s always slept in, surrounded by the teddies and toys she’s always had.

This world in which they live now is far off from the dark and post-apocalyptic world that could have been their fate if they had left things be.

This is the future that they now call home, and it’s all new and bright and shining. An untrodden path, waiting to be explored.

Jemma turns away from the window and goes to get her picture taken with her family.

They’re only just at the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to leave a kudos/comment. Please feel free not to. Either way, I hope you have a lovely day!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to leave a kudos/comment. Please feel free not to. Either way, I hope you have a lovely day!


End file.
